Masks
by SheilaWombat
Summary: "We all wear masks when we face the world.." House tries to break Chase's mask after the wombat saves his life.
1. Storm

Disclaimer: I do not own House...though I would like a "bitchin" cane...

Notes: This story takes place immediately after the Tritter incident, before the "One Day One Room" episode.

**_Barely surviving has become my purpose, cuz I'm so used to living underneath the surface- "Storm by Lifehouse"_**

"No ma'am…" he quipped, emphasizing sarcastically on the ma'am. He reached into his pocket searching for something, "You do not have mono…however, you do have halitosis…" he held out his tic tac container, "Tic Tac?"

The blond woman in front of him glared at him, obviously not amused. He exhaled in annoyance as he signed his chart as Gregory House and handed the paper to her. He got up and left without another word. He was ready to go home and was not in the mood to continue doing more clinic hours for Cuddy, his right leg was throbbing hard and the pain was finally acting up. He had to get home and get his spare Vicodin before it got any worse. He didn't even bother signing out. Let Cuddy believe he was still being a goody saint. If he signed out of the clinic, someone would notice and quickly notify Cuddy, he was not in the mood to be hunted down and have her pull him by the ear back into the clinic. He suppressed a grin as he tried to picture her doing that.

Ever since the Tritter incident, Cuddy has been on his ass about doing clinic hours because he_ owned _her…because he owned _everyone_. It was something that House just wanted to move on from and forget, but it seemed that no one would let him forget, would let him move on from it. Everyone saw him as an addict, a cry for help, a sick addiction to Vicodin and a man that was destroying his life. He scoffed, his life was already destroyed…he was just dealing with his issues and the pain with how he wanted to deal with it. It was not affecting his job like Cuddy and Wilson believed it was. Vicodin never interfered with his job…it was the pain and the detoxing that was interfering with his job. He winced as he remembered one of his last detox moments…he almost maimed a little girl and Chase…had stopped him. And how did he thank him? A sucker punch to the lower jaw. He was surprised later that the punch sent Wilson and not Chase to Tritter confessing. He was never sure if Wilson just beat him to it or if Chase never really intended to confess to Tritter…that he really learned his lesson from Volger.

As he left the building, he bolted out of his thoughts. Thought of the devil, he saw Chase walking ahead of him, with his messenger bag strapped over his shoulder heading towards the parking lot. He hid a smile. Even though he had a cane and bad leg, he could still somehow manage out-walk most of the people who work here. Wilson was the only one who could manage to walk side-by-side him, or perhaps he was the only one that was comfortable to. He snuck up behind Chase, like a stealthy predator lurking behind his prey, and stuck out his cane over Chase's left foot. Chase's eyes nearly stumbled out of his socket in shock as he nearly lost his footing. He quickly managed to retain his balance after some silly stepping moves and sighed in relief as he stopped himself from tripping. He growled in annoyance as he turned to the man he immediately suspected it to be: House, who looked disappointed that his prank had failed.

"Lemme guess, Wilson left early so he didn't have to worrying about tripping into oncoming traffic?" Chase asked sarcastically.

House held back a small chuckle; Chase often did not know that his comebacks amused him. "What do you mean?" House's face showed mock innocence, "I would never harm dear Wilson!"

Chase rolled his eyes as he tried to hide a smile and continued walking towards the parking lot, "Goodnight House."

House's shoulders slumped, how boring, he would now have to go home without being fully entertained. Where was Wilson when you needed him? He saw his blue motorcycle sitting in the handicap spot and hurried to it as a shot of pain shot through his right thigh. It was starting to get worse and House prayed that he could make it home in time. For a second he thought of asking Chase for a ride but almost laughed at the mere thought of it. He still had his pride; he wouldn't scoop so low and besides, like Chase would actually give him one. He saw his nameplate above his parking spot sparkle briefly by someone's headlights as it drove by. He grabbed his keys and went to tuck his cane on the bike.

"Gregory House?"

House turned around to see a man hiding within the shadows. The parking lights were dimmed and limited to certain areas but it was enough for House to illuminate some features on the man's face…the bush mustache, the thick eyebrows, and it was enough to see that this man was angry. House was annoyed; it seemed that everyone he came into contact with seemed to be angry with him. He guessed it just a certain effect he had on people.

"Who?" he glanced back at the nameplate, "Oh damn, must've parked in the wrong spot today…" He stopped as he saw light bounce off the object in the man's hands. Oh, wasn't he just looking for love in all the wrong places…it seems that good luck fortune has left him this year. House saw the man smirk before he pulled the trigger. From the second the man pulled the trigger, House's fear took over and he went numb. He couldn't feel his body. He suddenly noticed that he was on the ground and that the man's eyes had widened before quickly running away. Probably thought he wouldn't have the balls to shoot him and just intended to intimidate him. He suddenly felt pain in his right leg but nowhere else. He knew he didn't get shot there…did his leg give out causing him to fall and have the bullet miss him? He wince as more feeling came back to him…it felt as if there was pressure on his leg. He lowered his eyes towards bottom of his body and almost widened his eyes…Chase was laying there…clutching hard at his chest. What was Chase doing here? Did he…

He heard commotion and he averted his gaze and saw a group of concerned people heading their way. They obviously heard the gunshot. He ignored the growing, agonizing pain in his leg and grabbed Chase, pressing both of his hands onto Chase's bleeding wound as if he could find it…there was so much blood, too much blood everywhere…

He glanced back up, "Get a gurney! We need to rush him to the ER NOW!" House bellowed. He looked back as Chase's trembling and panting starting to slow and his eyelids started to droop.

"Damn it Chase, don't you fall asleep on me!" House pressed his hands harder onto Chase's wound when suddenly the realization hit him like a lightning bolt. It numbed him as people came and grabbed the now passed-out Chase from his arms, strapping him onto a gurney. He did not notice the EMTs checking over him and shouting for his attention as the others wheeled Chase away. He failed to notice Cuddy kneeling in front of him with tears welling in her eyes as she begged for what happened. He did not notice that his hands were covered in Chase's blood that his jeans were soaked in them. He failed to notice the pain trying to overcome his numbness. The only thing that kept running over and over in his mind, the one thing that he was concentrated on was on one thought:

Chase had taken a bullet for him.


	2. Fell on Black Days

Disclaimer: I don't own House…except maybe the whiteboard

Notes: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! I appreciate them so much and they always inspire me!

I feel in this chapter the characters may be a bit off character, if they are let me know and I'll try to fix it.

Keep reviewing and thanks for reading!

Ps- thanks caffinebunny for catching my mistake…im such a rookie:)

**Whomsoever I've cured, I've sickened now. Whomsoever I've cradled, I've put you down–"**_Fell on Black Days by Soundgarden"_

He was on fire. His entire chest was on fire. He wanted nothing at the moment but to end it. End the pain. Every pump his heart gave, the more the pain pounded, the more he couldn't breathe. He wanted to scream, to yell out his anguish but the pain prevented him. It was holding him back.

He tried to remember what caused the pain…he struggled through his memories, trying to ignore each piercing sting in his chest. House. Man. Gun. He gasped.

"He's been stabilize…" he heard a female voice said.

"Quick, transfer some blood into his system and make sure that wound does not start up again…" he heard a strong male voice ordered. Chase tried to open his eyes but he was too tired to. He could feel the ache in his chest sustaining, did they give him morphine? He tried to ignore everything when the memory came flooding back to him:

He was walking away from House, annoyed with the situation. Why did House always have to torment him? He always picked on him more than Foreman and Cameron. Maybe he was just jealous of his "pretty hair". Chase rolled his eyes at his own dumb humor. He ducked behind a truck and saw a man slouching slightly beside it, eyes on the lookout, as if waiting for someone. Chase almost would have missed him, he was in the shadows, and the parking lights were enough for him to see the outline of him. Suddenly, Chase's instinct arose in him telling him that this man was dangerous and to keep walking and not to bother him. But something else kept nagging at him. Who could the man be waiting for? He quickly glanced out of the corner of his eyes to see to follow the man's waiting interest. It landed on House's motorcycle and House was going to be limping there any second now. He slowed his pace and saw that the man had one of his hands hidden beneath his jacket.

Chase watched too many cop shows to know what the man could be hiding there. Move Chase's mind told him, Move! Chase quickly dipped behind the car and circled around hoping to get to House in time to warn him, or at least distract him back into the building. He stopped as he heard the menacing voice.

"Gregory House?"

Damn, damn, move faster! Chase circled around the second car to see the man's angry face. Using the shadows as his advantage, he gained ground towards House, hoping that maybe he could pull him and drag him away in time.

"Who?" he heard House reply and Chase groan inwardly as he heard the hint of sarcasm in it. Why did House always have to provoke people? It was almost as if he was asking for it; maybe the man just had a death wish. "Oh damn, must've parked in the wrong spot today…" Chase made himself a promise that if this guy did not kill House, Chase was going to kill him instead for being such a dumbass. But the man's smirk cause Chase to move quicker and he went to tackle the older man. He winced as he snapped House's cane and he winced as he slammed House's dead leg to the ground and landed on top of it. But he was surprise that he didn't wince earlier at the bullet that had smacked into him, which threw him slightly off balance. Due to that, he had smacked into House's motorcycle, causing it to tip over. He watched as the man widened his eyes. Heh, probably because he missed his original target. As the man started to run away, that's when it hit him. The pain. It overwhelmed him and Chase grabbed the wound. Shit…shit…Chase tried to control himself, it wasn't that bad he tried to convince himself. Just a little gunshot wound…His ears started to buzz as his body started to go into shock. Damn. He flitch as he felt added pressure on his chest. He glanced down to see House's hands above his own. But too much blood was oozing out that it was covering both of their hands. Darkness…Chase just wanted to fall back into the darkness.

"Damn it Chase!" he heard House yell, "Stay with me!"

Sorry House…but for once…I'm not obeying your order…Chase reached for the darkness…there was going to be no pain there…

"He's crash-coding!"

"Quick, bring me that crash cart!"

"Damn it, we're losing him…"

There was a high-tone beeping and then it slowed into a steady long tone…

"Shit…give me the paddles!'

It was as if he heard them from another world. It didn't matter to him, only the internal pain-less darkness did. He kept wanting to grasp it but something held him back…wait…he made a promise…he had to keep it.

_Damn you House._

_I still have to kill you._

_For being such a fricken dumbass._

_--_

The pain in his leg finally subsided. House inhaled softly in relief. The cops were done taking his statement, House was thankful for that since they had his, they wouldn't need Chase's. The kid didn't need anyone pressuring him when he's trying to heal…that is…if…House stopped himself, he wasn't going to go down that route. That stupid Aussie was still alive.

He was sitting in Cuddy's office, waiting to hear about Chase's condition. He would have barged in during surgery to help, but Cuddy somehow managed to convince him to stay. The dark-brown curly hair woman was still outside talking to the officers. They had caught the man who had shot Chase. Apparently, he was House's former patient. The man had admitted himself into Plainsboro Princeton Teaching Hospital because he believed that he had cancer. He was a good money donator so Cuddy immediately gave his case over to House. It was only two days when House discovered that it was not cancer but an environmental factor. He cured the man and sent him home. Obviously, either the man did not believe he was truly cured or he had a disturbing way of saying thanks.

House popped in another Vicodin and dry swallowed it. It had been a long night…long and stressful…and it wouldn't have been if Chase…He bolted from his thoughts as the door opened. Instead of Cuddy, his "I have no idea why we're friends" friend Wilson walked in.

"I heard what happened," Wilson closed the door behind him to quiet the loud chattering among the clinic. "How is he?"

"Dead…" he paused for a moment as Wilson filled it with a small gasp, "When I'm through with him…"

Wilson was close to strangling House for his sick joke but paused as he saw the true concern in his eyes. He would never admit it to House, and the cynic man would deny it anyway, but Wilson could always catch House's true emotions in his eyes…but only at certain times. The man was heavily guarded, even the mirror of the soul were guarded well.

"It's true than…"Wilson sat on the couch across from his friend, "Chase took a bullet for you?"

"I have no idea what they taught him down under, " House growled, "But the stupid wombat should have better common sense than to go diving in front of a bullet."

Wilson hid a small sad smile, "You know he's not stupid, you are just confused because you can't understand why he did it."

House waved a hand to push the comment aside. He ran it through his face and then through his hair. He exhaled softly, he hated that Wilson could read him sometimes. But right now…he was more angry and confused at someone else. He stopped as he paused to look at his hands…moments earlier they were covered in Chase's blood. It was so weird washing it off of him, it seemed no matter how many times he scrubbed, the blood wouldn't come off. House could swear that he felt that the blood was still there, even if he couldn't see it. Chase's blood…House clenched his hands into fists, damn him…it was suppose to be his own blood. That way he wouldn't feel so guilty, he wouldn't feel like he now owed Chase…two. He heard Wilson say something and he looked back up at him.

"What?"

"I ask you where your cane was." Wilson had an eyebrow raised as he scanned the room for it, "You didn't run after the guy who did this and beat him up did you?"

I wish House wanted to say but instead he said, " It's broken…the young Britain snapped it when he pushed me…not to mention knock my beautiful motorcycle over…kids these days…they got no respect saving someone's life."

"Yah…"Wilson decided to play along, he knew House needed this. Sometimes House joked because it was just a mask to cover up how he was truly feeling, "They have no appreciation of their senior citizens…"

"Hey…" House lightly snapped, "I'm not that old…"

They were silence for a moment and both slightly jumped as the door opened to reveal Cuddy. It seemed as if she aged overnight, she looked as old as she looked when she was on the stand defending House, as old as she did when he was admitted in the hospital for his infraction. Her face was somber and she weakly smiled. House tensed, preparing for the worse.

"He's stable." House let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding, "He coded two times in the emergency room. But they brought him back both times, they don't know if it affected anything. He was…" she paused and closed her eyes. Her voice cracked as she continued, it was almost House in that room, "…shot…just below the collarbone on the left side of his chest…it managed to fracture his collarbone and his shoulder bone."

House sat in silence. He knew what they were thinking but he didn't like it. Wilson and Cuddy were almost broken up because they knew it was almost him in there, he hoped that soon that they would care that it was Chase. The kid deserved the praised and the concern more than he did.

"How long will he be out for?" he heard Wilson ask. He looked up at Cuddy as she pulled her hair behind her ear.

"Probably until tomorrow…you both should go home," indicating more towards House, "get some sleep and come back refreshed tomorrow."

"No…" House slowly stood up and limped with heavy effort to get to the door, "I'm going to wait for him to wake up…so that I can see for myself that he's alive…"

"House…you know that… just believe me and go home," Cuddy pleaded.

House reached for the door handle, "I have to see." He stared at Cuddy and Wilson with a serious face, "So that I can kill him for being such a dumbass…"


	3. Losing My Religion

Notes: Thanks for all the reviews! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

**Life is bigger, bigger than you and you are not me. The lengths that I would go to, the distance in your eyes.** "_Losing my Religion by REM"_

After bribing some nurse whose name was of no importance to him to make sure that House was to be left alone until he allowed so, he entered Chase's room. He felt his right leg tighten in guilt as he saw Chase lying unconscious in the bed in front of him. An IV was hooked up to him, giving him drips of morphine, of course there were the other medical craps monitoring his heart, breathing, basically everything. One thing that caught his attention was that Chase was bare-chest; half his chest and his left shoulder was wrapped up in a white bandage and tighten up in a sling. He wondered what color the Aussie's skin was beneath that.

House suddenly wished he was home. He wanted to be anywhere but here. But somehow he found that he couldn't even will himself to leave. He almost lost his balance and he managed to slip easily into the hospital chair next to Chase's bed. Before he leaves, he needed to call Wilson and have him bring a cane. There was no way House was going to make it out of the room on his own. He was surprised he managed to limp well on his own this far. Maybe the adrenaline and the fear finally wore off.

He watched Chase's chest move up and down and he found himself counting his breathing. It sounded normal. Good. He glanced over Chase and then his eyes landed on his hair.

He chuckled as he remembered when he hired Chase. It was only pretty face and him for almost half a year. He remembered the day before Robert Chase's interview when his father, Rowan Chase called him. Asking him not to hire Chase. Apparently, the man believed that his son was wasting his talent in America and should return to Australia to follow his father's footsteps. He heard of Rowan Chase from some book he read in the past but at the moment House didn't care. He knew that this applicant's father was well known and with that Chase name he could have easily applied to any hospital in Australia and get a job. Instead he came here. House's curiosity rose and he became committed to find out the true reason why Chase was running so far from home. Perhaps it was because he did not want to be in daddy's shadows anymore or maybe because he wanted a challenge when he applied for a job. House smirked as he hanged up the phone.

Chase was hired without an interview. Instead of meeting with House that day, Chase had walked into his office to a note that said: "You're Hired. Go to clinic room and do my hours."

He still wished to this day that he was there to see Chase's reaction.

They finally met two days later when Chase was making coffee in the diagnosis room. House had barged in, heading towards the white board, "Differential diagnosis. Twenty-five year old male, claiming he is from Australia but his accent demands otherwise…yes young British male I reckon, and hired because his father made a phone call demanding…"

"You hired me because of my father?!" Chase snapped his accent thick.

House almost smirked but contained it, "Well, he is to thank and…" he trailed off as he watched Chase placed his red coffee cup down and grabbed his messenger bag. "Where do you think you are going? I'm not done."

"Forget it. I quit."

After two days? House groaned he was going to be the shortest anyone ever lasted. He reached out and grabbed the young man by the shoulder, "Hey, your father called me. I don't know how he found out but…"

"I don't want to be hired because of my father." Chase glared hard at House, his mind already set. He reached for the door but stopped as House called out to him.

"Robert." It was probably the only time House ever called him by his first name, "Use your brain, I'm afraid your pretty hair is affecting your judgment." He continued after Chase's scoffed hi s back still to him. "No matter where you go, your father is going to follow you. Are you going to spend your entire life running from your father's shadows? Now, you can either believe that I hired you for your applications and experiences. Or you can choose to believe that I hired you because of your father. I don't care which you choose, but think about this, you will probably never get this opportunity again, and you'll lose a chance to learn from the great diagnostician of all time. Cuddy will confirm that."

Chase let out a small chuckle and House was glad for once someone laughed at his sense of humor. "Now, young Bond, we actually do have a case!"

Chase turned around, "I'm Australian."

House gave him a look of disbelief, "Sure you are. Your pretty hair begs to differ."

That was the only time House could remember that Chase ever had a backbone. Every insult, every abuse House gave him since then, Chase only laughed at it or just took it. The only time he ever corrected House was due to his ethnicity. But there was one thing that made up for that. Chase was different that many of those that came through before. He helped House get to the diagnosis faster. Sure, the kid never actually solved one, but he had the ability to think outside of the box. The place where House was at most of the time. He was surprised at his Intensivist, he wasn't expecting Robert Chase. He was expecting Rowan to shine through him. However, Chase proved to be nothing like his father. The more time they spent on a case together, the more House wanted to hire more people. He felt that with more people around, they could push Chase to think more cleverly outside of the box and perhaps to bring out his other hidden skills.

After hiring Cameron, he found that Chase was a better people reader. He decided to think beyond the moral of the cases. After hiring Foreman, he found that Chase stretch out further outside the box and that Chase not only agreed with House to ass-kiss him but because he believed there was a possibility that House could be right.

Even after all this, House was still not impressed. This kid spent a half a year with him already and he hasn't done anything or suggested anything that took House by surprise or something that House wouldn't have thought of later. Until a few weeks after he hired Foreman.

They had a case where a teacher had a tapeworm in her head and they were waiting for her permission to remove it. She didn't believe them and decided she would rather go home and die. He kept thinking over and over how to prove to her that the tapeworm was real and that she had a chance to live when Chase suggested something.

X-ray her leg. There might be another tapeworm there because they love thigh muscles. If she has one in her leg, she has one in the brain.

That was the day Robert Chase passed House's test. From that moment, House pushed him harder than he ever did before. Harder than Foreman. Harder than Cameron.

He never really knew why he bothered so hard with Chase. When Volger came along, House believed he could use the excuse to fire him. He believed that Chase was ready. Only Chase proved to him that he wasn't. He still had more to learn. Even after his betrayal, House was still bitter and wanted to fire him. He changed his mind when Wilson tried to convince him to. If everyone wanted him fire, than House was going to keep him.

Boy, was he glad he did. The boy surprised him even more by surpassing House's expectations of him with a quick rate.

He remembered a week after he had punch Chase that in the future, he realized that Chase was going to become a better diagnostician than Cameron, than Foreman…..than him.

He shook his head to clear his mind and shuffled the hospital chair closer to the bed. Leaning back and placing his right leg on the mattress, he dropped his head back and decided to sleep. It was going to be awhile before the wombat woke up.

--

He was nothing.

That was how Robert Chase viewed himself: a nobody, a pathetic piece of existence, someone that was not worth living. His whole life people had high expectations of him, mostly due to his father. They expected a perfect GPA; he was only two points away. They expected him to be a football star; a hard working player that played with a lot of heart never received any awards or credit. They expected him to pass the SATS with a perfect score; he was only one hundred points down. They expected him to internship with his father before college; he went off to the seminary. They expected him to follow into his father's footsteps, he ran off to American to seek a different job in another world.

They were always disappointed. No one was ever proud of him; he could never reach their expectations. He was always trying so hard to please people, not because he wanted to prove them right or wrong, because he wanted for once someone to look him in the eye and for once see how proud they were of him. Every eye that ever looked upon him was filled of disappointment. Even his own eyes, as he stared at his own reflection in the mirror each morning, was fill of disappointment. How could he ever amount to anything?

How could he get up each morning and be able to even look at himself in the mirror without turning quickly away in shame. How could he be proud of his own self?

He _gave_ everything he ever had, everything, and he was still…nothing.

He almost had given up. Running away to America was his last choice, he figured if he ran away from everything that was trapping him, if he finally broke free, for once he could take pride in himself. Chase could stare at himself in the eye and stand tall with confidence.

He remembered the first day he met Gregory House. He had already been hire by the man and started working, but never actually met him until a couple days later. The man had stormed in while Chase was making himself some coffee, sprouting out a differential. He remembered how he froze as the older man mentioned receiving a phone call from his father.

The bastard was still trying to trap him, it seemed no matter how far he ran, his father was always there, surrounding him. For once in his life he wanted to live up to his own expectations, not anyone else but his. If he got this job because of his father, he wasn't going to work there.

House caught him before he stormed out of the door trying to stop him but Chase would have none of it. But something made him halt in his tracks. House had called him by his name. Robert. No one has ever called him by his first name for as long as he could remember. Hearing House say his name made Chase feel that he was no longer Rowan Chase's son but Robert Chase, a man with his own potentials. He remembered House's words clearly…but it was hearing his name that convinced him to stay. What made him committed was what Chase saw in those deep blue eyes as he came back into the room and jumped onto the next case.

Pride.

House was proud of a decision that Chase made for himself. Not because Chase fulfilled House's expectations but because Chase was willing to live up to his own expectations and no one else's.

Still old habits die hard, he was still an ass-kisser. But then again…who to say that was really him. It was his mask, something he wore to the people he worked with, no one really knows what underneath his mask when he took it off. The real Robert Chase.

He hoped though that he hadn't wore the mask for too long because sometimes if one wears a mask for a long time…it becomes your own face…becomes your true self.

Chase knew it was time. Time to start taking the mask off.

Being a doctor made it easier for Chase to look in the mirror, even though he did not look away, the eyes held shame.

A small stab of pain in his shoulder brought him back. The darkness was slowly slipping away. No…he didn't want to lose the darkness, he felt safe in it, he wanted to be consumed by it once again.

But as always…he was left disappointed.

--

House awoke by something poking him. Annoyed, he raised one lid to murder whoever was awaking him from his deep slumber. Nothing. Curiosity made him sit up and felt something poke at his foot once more. He noticed something on top of his right leg that was propped up on top of Chase's bed; a dark brown wooden cane. Wilson must have placed it there, he was going to have to yell at the nurse for doing a horrible job holding people at bay. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost eight in the morning. His other ducklings would be arriving any moment now to start their new day at work. He knew he had to leave soon to stop them from parading into Chase's room shooting questions and he knew the last thing Chase wanted was Cameron goo-goo goggling all over him as if he was a broken puppy.

As he was placing his right leg back onto the floor, he heard a soft groan. Moving his eyes towards Chase, he realized the wombat was waking up. Chase's eyelids fluttered open and House watch the young man's pupils adjust to the darkness of the room. House had kept the light off and kept the shade close, hoping that maybe it may hide him. He knew Chase was a good observant and he didn't want Chase reading him right now. House could tell that his mask was close to breaking right now. He did not want Chase to slip through the cracks and see what was underneath.

He braced himself as Chase's eyes landed on him, registered him.

"House?" Chase coughed; his throat was dry and hoarse. Water…he wanted water.

"Stupid wombat. You have to be the most idiotic person I've ever met," House growled, getting up onto his feet. His leg screamed in pain announcing it was time for some Vicodin but House ignored it. He needed answers and he needed them now.

"You know, that's not the first time you've said that to me. I'm already immune to it now." Chase retorted softly, trying to sit up in the hospital bed as he coughed again, "why are the lights off?" he realized.

House ignored the last part, "Oh well this time, you've really crossed the line with your stupidity!"

"Oh this is coming from the drongo who was basically begging the bastard to shoot him!" Chase winced as his yelling erupt pain from his wounds.

"You know a normal person would dodge away from a bullet not towards it!"

"Oh forgive me," Chase waved his good arm, "for a second I thought I was Superman and had magical powers to stop the bullet!"

"Yah you are an idiot and a nutcase!"

House knew this had to be a dream; he had to be in an episode of Twilight Zone or X-files or something. This was not the Chase he knew. The Chase he knew would not take a bullet for him, the Chase he knew would not be acting like a nutcase right now.

What happened to his ass-kisser, the man who took whatever came his way and acted like it didn't affect him? Maybe he was doped up on too much morphine.

"What are you doing here?" he heard Chase mumbled as the wombat struggled again to sit up in his bed, he was having difficulty without the use of his left arm.

"Funny," House snip, "I was about to ask you the same."

"Well from what I recall I think a bullet got me in here." Chase was starting to get annoyed. Why was House here and why was he so angry?

House rolled his eyes. This was getting nowhere. The Chase he knew wasn't supposed to be this snippy. He stopped. This was the Chase he knew. The man who picked his own battles. The man House saw when he first met him.

"I was making sure you were in perfect health and condition." House answered.

"I assume I am in perfect health…but condition…" Chase motioned to his bandaged shoulder and arm, "not so peachy."

House stared at Chase. His mind swirling with questions. Was Chase just like him? Did Chase wear a mask just like him? Could Chase see through his own facade? Another question screamed at him and it dominated all others. Before he could ask, he heard someone enter the room. He turned to see the same nurse he bribed turn on the lights. They both grimaced at the sudden light and at the loud happy sound of the nurse.

"You're awake!" she beamed. She paused and looked at House, "I'm going to go get the doctor alright?"

That was his signal to leave. He could tell from her voice that his bribery was no longer in favor. He nodded and turned to Chase as the nurse left the room,

"I'm going to go upstairs; Foreman and Cameron will probably burn the diagnostics office to the ground if t left unattended."

Chase let out a small chuckle, "Yah. Wouldn't want that to happen."

"Why?" House blurted out, unable to hold the question in any longer.

"Why what?"

"Why did you do it? Take the bullet for me?"

Chase sighed softly and glanced down, his blonde bangs falling into his eyes. As he looked back up at House, he suddenly looked so young, "Honestly…I don't know."

House glared at him and spat with vehement, "You're lying."

Chase was taken aback.

House smiled a cruel smirk, "Don't worry though pretty wombat, I'll find out the answer soon enough."

Damn Chase thought as House limped out of the room. Was that why House was waiting for him to wake up? Or was this House 's sick way of showing that he cared? All he knew though was that his suffering was not over. House had found another puzzle and when House finds a puzzle the older man did not rest until he solved it. And right now, that puzzle was him.

Damn.

If only that bullet had been a few inches south.


	4. Piano Man

Disclaimer: Do not own House…duh!

Notes: Thank you all sooo much for your feedbacks! I love reviews where you folks defend your characters, it helps me write the story and fix things. Thank for the honesties and the honest feedbacks! Much appreciated!

**Yes, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness but it's better than drinking alone** "_Piano Man by Billy Joel"_

_Thud_

It didn't make any sense

_Thud._

None whatsoever

_Thud-thud._

He narrowed his eyes lost in thought

_Thud_

There has to be a clue in there somewhere.

_Thud_

The words on the whiteboard only stared back at him, none screaming out at him.

_Thud-thud_

He had to have missed something

_Thud_

He was glad for the moment he was alone, he sent Foreman and Cameron to run tests on their patient.

_Thud_

He caught his ball with his cane and balanced it on his lap. He kept concentrating, mediating on the whiteboard. He heard the door open behind him and from the footsteps he knew who the person was.

"Differential diagnosis…" House whirled around in his chair, "Care to lend a hand?"

Wilson smirked in amusement as he read the board:

"Stupid Wombat

Phony British accent

Pretty hair- common side effects drool

Ass-kisser- makes great coffee

Bad humor- though sometimes amusing

Too much time with the downstairs brain-more time thinking upstairs

Abandoned Faith- comes with inherited catholic guilt…"

Wilson trailed off as he saw the last statement; he looked at House in surprise. As he went to comment on it, House interrupted him,

"Think I missed anything? Any strange symptoms?"

Wilson scoffed, "You're not going to give up on this are you?"

"I have to admit Wilson, this case intrigues me." House grabbed his ball and started twirling his cane around his fingers, "Intriguing…yet it is annoying…"

"House, this is ridiculous. Why are you doing this?" Wilson was exasperated, "You are going to torture the poor kid aren't you?"

"Luckily he got his goody-saint Wilson to stand by and protect him. Shouting all the wrong morals that House is bestowing upon him." House quipped.

"Look, why can't you just thank him for saving your life and move on? This is not worth it."

House swirled his head towards the man, "This is coming from the guy whose patients thank him after he tells them they're dying…"

Wilson rolled his eyes, "House…"

"Everybody lies Wilson, remember that. I wanna know what Chase is lying about."

Wilson was confuse, "What are you talking about?"

"Chase told me he did not know why he dove in front of a bullet. But I think he's lying." House stopped twirling his cane, "You think after saving my life, Chase would confess his deep profound love to me and that he couldn't let me die cuz…" House's voice turned into a high pitch mocking voice, "life would not be worth living without me!"

"You are an ass." Wilson snapped.

House's eyes narrowed again in deep thought, "This case is different. We've always had people lie about certain things, certain actions that they don't want people to know. But with Chase…he's not lying about something….he's lying...of who he is…"

"What are you talking about?"

House rolled his eyes and retorted sarcastically, "It means he's gay!"

"House…" Wilson warned.

He watched the older man paused, looking over his whiteboard.

"I wonder…" House muttered, "what he could be lying about? What if…" He jumped up and grabbed the eraser from the top of his whiteboard. He began erasing the board and then stepped back to see what was left. The only thing left up there was: Stupid Wombat, Pretty Hair and…

"You didn't erase the last part…" Wilson pointed out, "I don't think it's part of Chase's symptoms…"

House glared at Wilson, "Well I believe it is, it goes quite nicely with the stupid wombat…"

"Sometimes I wonder…" Wilson mumbled as he watches House flip the whiteboard to reveal his other real patient's symptoms, "if you and Chase were more alike than we thought…"

House apparently didn't hear him or chose to ignore him, Wilson watched as he tuck the ball under his arms and limped towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Off to do a little B &E!"

_Breaking and entering_? Wilson inwardly groaned, "House, don't!"

House already left, leaving Wilson behind. The man groaned softly and ran his fingers threw his hair. He couldn't believe that what House really thought. Why couldn't the man ever be grateful and leave things as it is. Wilson almost chuckled, then he wouldn't be the House we all came to know and love if he didn't. House loves puzzles…however; people tend to fascinate him more, though House won't admit it.

He glanced back at the whiteboard, remembering what House had written.

"Pointless sacrifice huh?" Wilson muttered, he shook his head. "You may think that about yourself House…but it seems to me that you may be insulting Chase too harsh there."

--

He really is a stupid wombat. Who the hell leaves a spare key under the fire extinguisher ?! House grumbled as he opened the dark brown door. He was surprised by what he saw inside; there were always rumors around the hospital about what "rich" Chase's place looks like. Some nurses sighed about how it looked like a prince's castle. House rolled his eyes, boy would they be wrong.

But it was still neat and tidy and House was surprised Chase even had the time to clean and dust the place, it looked spotless. He spotted the living room and kitchen all joined as one room. He saw a long hallway where he assumed the bathroom and bedroom would be.

Closing the door behind him, House limped towards Chase's couch. He stopped as he noticed the dark purple couch and the wall. I guess the aussie is as color coordinated with his clothes as he is with his home. Was he really color blind or he just didn't care if things match or not. Or perhaps he just thought every color went together. He went over to the fridge and opened it. He laughed, there should be a rule for every woman that ever wants to know a man better, look at what he has stashed in his fridge, after all you are what you eat.

AMP energy drinks, fat-free milk that has been expired for almost half a month, and about a variety of every fruit stacked up with rotten cheese.

"Hmmm…a fruit huh?." House winced at his bad pun. Thank god no one was around to hear that. He glanced over at young man's television and stereo, random CDs of bands House never heard of; movies…House raised a brow, and had to stop himself from laughing.

"I always knew you were British at heart ..." House chuckled as he pulled one of the Bond movies from Chase's collections. It seemed he had all the James Bond movies ever made.

But none of them helped with his puzzles. They were mere entertaining pieces of evidence, they were of no importance. House did not care what food Chase ate or what he watched or listened to.

He glanced down at the bedroom at the end of the hall. The double doors were close, they were glass doors with dark purple curtains hiding the room behind it. House limped down, the floor creaking beneath him and groaning when his cane made contact. He opened the door hesitantly, he almost gasped what he saw inside. A dresser, with two picture frames; one of Chase and the diagnostic team during a Christmas benefit and one of what looks to be a teenage Chase wrestling around with two other Australian teens. There was a tall bookcase stuffed with medical books and a few reading for pleasure books. A king size bed that had many clothes bundle up on top. But those were not what caught House off guard.

It was the little wooden piano in the dark corner of the room; House approached it, analyzing it. It appeared a little worn down; Chase has definitely played music on this. He glanced at Chase's music sheets, Beethoven , Mozart, and other classic musicians. House was surprised; Chase played classical music, the same type of music that he played. House pulled out the bench and sat on it. He placed his hands on the keys and stroked it softly, introducing himself to the piano and letting the piano introduce itself to him. Then he dove in, he let his fingers flow and become one with the piano. He closed his eyes and let the music overcome him, pour through him.

He remembered when he was younger when he wanted to escape from reality, he would play the piano. He would let the music overtake him and cleared his mind of everything but the music. It always relaxed him and it was something he felt that he had complete control over, how well he played the music and having the beauty of it soar in his ears and knowing that he was playing it, creating it, instilled him with happiness.

It was an escape from his father who was never proud of his son. Everything he did was wrong. Instead of praise all he received was abuse.

His mother was loving and caring and understood him better than most people. But sometimes his mother could be ignorant, or maybe she chose to be.

He was always alone; alone and bitter. No one cared or wanted him. All he had were his smarts and his wit. But at night it wasn't enough for him. When twilight came, the music kept him company, and contained his sanity.

Even when he was with Stacey, sure he may have love the woman, but she could never fill his loneliness. With all the times he spent with her, he never felt completely whole with her, there was always something missing. Yet with the music, he was complete.

House stopped; another piece was added to the puzzle. He wondered did Chase felt the same when he played? Or did he just merely play for the fun of it?

House stopped. It seemed that Chase probably had maybe one or two friend, kinda like how he had his Wilson. He wondered then who was Chase's Wilson.

House stopped. He didn't. He did not just compared Chase to him. But what if…if House used himself to try and figure Chase out? Were they more alike than House thought? He shivered at the mere thought, another him, impossible, the world could only deal with one of him at a time.

He wondered that if some things were different if he and Chase would ever be friends? Apparently there was more to Chase then he thought. His suspicions were correct. Now he knew why he liked Chase better.

Foreman was always predictable, it wasn't hard to get a rise out of him or to know his true intentions behind his actions. Cameron was so readable that House got bored of her after a week. Still sometimes the female hormones had it certain surprise to it, it was similar with Cuddy as well. But Chase was different. He could never understand the man's actions. He could never read Chase's reactions. He always had to drag it out of the kid, or create stories and see which one fit more or stir at least a little bit of reaction out of the Australian.

Chase was unpredictable. The thing with Volger-didn't see that one coming. The solution he came to get a blood clot out of a kid's eye- didn't see that one coming. Every possibility Chase sprout out, every diagnosis the kid said- House never saw it coming. Even when Chase confronted him with the truth of the girl he almost maimed-didn't see that one coming. Okay maybe he saw it coming…but not from Chase.

House smirked. He really was going to make a great diagnostician someday. He wondered how much better Chase will be when he wasn't under House's wing. House stopped. He wasn't ready. As much as he wanted Chase to grow, he wasn't ready to let him go. Chase has already learned more than he can. He already saw the self-confidence blooming in the kid after he had punched him.

Chase never really was an ass-kisser. He wasn't always seeking for approval. He wondered though, if the kid knew that himself. House almost laugh as he realized, Chase was seeking approval…approval from his own self.

House chuckled, "We all wear masks when we face the world Chase…" he played a few notes, "but do you wear a mask when you face yourself?"

The next piece fell in place.

Chase _really_ did not know why he saved House.

House smiled, it was sure going to be fun trying to help the blonde find out why.

He knew the answer was in there somewhere.

He just has to help Chase take off his mask.

--

Chase opened his eyes as he heard a brief knock on the door. He almost sighed in relief as he saw Wilson walking through.

"Hey Chase…" Wilson spoke softly, approaching the foot of the bed.

"I hope House isn't hiding behind the door eavesdropping." Chase muttered. Wilson almost laughed, the kid knew his boss way too well.

"Fortunately for you, no he isn't. I came to tell you though, he's broken into your apartment."

Chase groaned, "Ah…that bastard…I knew it!" He clenched his right hand and exhaled in annoyance. Wilson was surprised as Chase started to chuckle, "He's not going to make my life easy is he?"

Wilson had to smile at that, "Since when has the man ever made anyone's life easy?"

"Good point." Chase wince at the shot of pain that shot through his shoulder. He stopped and shifted himself, ignoring the growing pain.

Wilson caught it and looked over the kid admiring him. He saved someone life and took it like a man. He saved House's life and took it as a man.

"Thank you." Wilson found himself saying.

Chase was taken aback. Why was Wilson saving him? He then realized that unfortunately House was Wilson's best friend. Those two shared a friendship that Chase always admired. They took each other's abuse but when it comes down to it, they were willing to help each other. Well, House did have the upper hand in the relationship but then again, he had the upper hand in ever relationship. House wasn't an easy person to be friends with. House chose his friends. He wondered what made Wilson pass the test. What made Wilson special to House? He knew that House was grateful for the oncologist even if he never admit it.

"You're welcome." Chase managed to say. There was a moment of silence between them as Chase watch as Wilson was struggling with his words.

"He likes you." Wilson sputtered out and Chase almost laughed as he saw the blush forming in Wilson's cheeks. "I didn't mean it like that but…you know…"

"He's not going to ask me on a date now he is?" Chase added hoping to lighten the situation. Wilson smiled,

"Maybe. But I know this for sure, he respects Foreman and he respects Cameron. He respects you but…he actually likes you. That is why he's going to be so hard on this. He feels that in this situation he should have gotten the bullet not you. If it was Foreman or Cameron, I feel that he would already know the answer: Foreman did it because he probably thought it would look good on the job application and Cameron did it because it would have gone against her morals." Wilson sighed as he found that he was starting to repeat House's words. He grabbed the hospital chair and sat down, "The point is…I think this is his strange way of showing that he cares and that he's grateful. He'll always call you an idiot. But he's grateful."

Chase nodded, somehow finding himself holding back tears. "Why…why are you telling me this?"

"Because I have a feeling House is going to go too far on this one. I need you to know so you can hold onto that." Wilson placed his head in his hands and sighed, "He does this to me. When he's interested, he goes above and beyond to solve it, he just can't let it go. There has to be a reason for everything." He ran his hands through his hair and stared at Chase, "He's always came close to ruining our friendship, more than enough times than I can count."

"Why are you friends with him then? I mean it looks like such an abusive relationship…"

Wilson smiled and held back the laughter coming from his chest, "I ask myself that question all the time. But House is like a magnet, he draws people to him. I don't know how but he does. I guess I give a damn because he doesn't want anyone else to."

Chase nodded, that was how he felt about the man sometimes. He remembered back when he found out that House lied to him about his father's death. The man had knew and never told him. What took him a while to realize was that House was respecting Chase's wishes. Chase had told him long ago when his father came to visit that sometimes "it hurt less not to care". House was obeying that, he believed that Chase would have been better "not to care". Since Chase came upon that revelation, he started to respect his boss even more.

"So…" Wilson cleared his throat, "When are they letting you go home?"

"Well, I've decided I'm going back to work the day after tomorrow. I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

Wilson almost stood up, "Are you sure? You don't want to rush it, I think House is going to delay your healing process."

Chase smiled, "Yah I know. But I can't sit around and not do anything. It stinks though…I can't really do anything until my shoulder heals."

"Uh…" Wilson shifted, "Why did you save House?"

"You know," Chase threw his head back, "Everyone keeps asking me that but…I don't know. I'm beginning to regret it now."

Wilson snorted, "House has that effect. Did it ever occur to you that…you might've died?"

Chase's mind whirled back in time, to how he felt and his intentions. "I don't really think it was on my mind at the time. All I kept worrying about was getting House of danger. The bloody fool may call me an idiot, but I'm not the one walking around with a death wish."

Wilson knew that sometimes House sarcastic defense mechanism could get in trouble. That how the whole Tritter incident began. He knew that someday it would get the man killed, he was surprise it hadn't killed him yet.

"Heh…" Wilson looked up at Chase who seemed to have realized something, "I guess I wasn't thinking…I was merely acting on instinct." Could it be that maybe…Chase raised a brow; maybe it was more than respecting House…maybe he actually gave a damn about the man.

"I hate to tell you this, but sometimes…you remind me of House." Wilson let out a small laugh as he saw Chase's face scrunched up in disgust. He found himself liking the kid, he could see why House liked him. Chase wasn't what everyone said he was, he wasn't lazy, he wasn't a snobby rich kid, but actually a laid-back, sarcastic, down-to-earth nice kid. The Australian actually had a heart.

Wilson almost jumped as his pager went off. He grabbed it and rolled his eyes at the message:

KNEW IT: PREGNANT!

"House?" Chase already knew.

Wilson nodded, "Apparently someone on his soap opera got pregnant by her father."

"Jeez, that man needs a life."

"Tell me about it," Wilson got up and headed towards the door, "Our lives would be so much more bearable."

Chase had one more question before Wilson departed, "He's not going to let this until he solves it, isn't he?"

Wilson gave his sympathetic face, "No he's not….because he cares."

Chase almost growled in response and Wilson exit the room. The young man grumbled softly, "It may hurt less not to care…but for House dammit... it's more fun to actually give a damn."

Chase banged his head against the backboard. He wondered if it was too late to put in a letter of resignation. He almost chuckled. Even if he did, House would probably camp out at his apartment to find out his answer.

Chase stopped cold in his blood. Oh god he prayed, let's hope it does not come down to that. He tried picturing House curled up on his purple couch watching porn on his television.

The sad thing was: he knew it was a very _very_ strong possibility.


	5. Walk Away

Chapter Five

**~Seems to me, you don't wanna talk about it. Seems to me, you just turn your pretty head and walk away~** "_Walk Away by The James Gang"_

Chase never thought he'll be so happy to see his apartment building. He was glad to be home, he manage to be release from the hospital before the regular eight o'clock shift. He did not want to run into Cameron and Foreman, most of all, he did not want to run into House. He was in no mood for mind games and in no mood for a constant battle between the two of them. He just wanted to curl up on his purple couch, with his hot chocolate and watch a movie or something. Maybe James Bond.

His legs ache as he climbed up the stairwell heading towards his door. As he slipped into his apartment, he dropped his messenger bag onto the floor and made a beeline for the kitchen. Reaching into his cupboard, he grabbed a silver pot and his hot cocoa mix. He groaned as he went to lift his left arm. Stupid him, it was still in a sling. A shot of pain went through him and he considered grabbing his pain medication but decided against it. He went to grab a coffee mug when he heard something from his room.

It sounded like someone was playing his piano. He placed the mug on the counter and walked towards his bedroom doors. They were closed but the curtains moved against the breeze behind the door. Someone must have the window open. With each step, the notes became clear and Chase knew what the piece was. Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. He opened the door and the music stopped. Chase groaned as he saw who was there.

"House? What are you doing here?" He was angry at the fact that House had betrayed his privacy, no one was allowed on that piano but him. It was his own private comfort place.

The older man turned on the piano bench with an innocent look, "What? Can't a man express his gratitude?"

Chase ran his right hand through his dirty blonde hair, "Don't you have to be at work or something?"

"Nope. No case. Solved it yesterday." House used his cane to push himself up from the piano bench. "Nice piano, very old and classic. You must have had it for a long time."

"Yah, Christy has been with me for almost fifteen years."

"You named your piano? Must be a very serious relationship. Are you all talk? Or can you really play?"

Chase growled and strolled past House, sitting himself on the bench. Lifting his right hand, he began playing some notes. House listened, somehow expecting Chopsticks as most people play when they find a piano, and heard half the notes of one of his favorite piece. He smiled at the blonde who had closed his eyes and moved against the music. Halfway, Chase stopped and stared at the keys, "I taught myself how to play. My father thought I was wasting my time with doofer stuff and forced me to play the violin. Heh…as an act of rebellious, I snapped it in half during practice. He was not pleased…" Chase trailed off as he glanced up at House, not knowing why he was telling the older man this.

He cleared his throat and got up heading back towards the kitchen, "I'm making some hot cocoa, want some?"

He heard the tapping of the cane following after him and assumed that was his answer. He grabbed another mug from the cupboard and grabbed his pot placing it into the sink. He used his hand turning on the water. House watched as Chase struggled with one hand to bring the pot over the stove. He hated how his guilt and his leg pain were tied together. Wincing at the growing pain, House limped over to the table and pulled himself a chair. Chase turned the stove on and took a seat next to House. Both men sat in silent staring at the pot.

"You are taking this rather well." House stated, he almost laughed as Chase turned his head to glare at him.

"I figured it's easier to accept your annoying presence than to fight it. We're both in the same situation; we both have no idea why I saved your dumb ass."

"Tell me about the relationship with your father."

Chase widened his eyes, "What? You expect me to pour out my life story to you?"

"Yah, good point." House twirled his cane, "We'll save that for later. We'll start easy for now…let's see…"

"Easy…." Chase let out a hard laugh, "For now?"

House ignored him, "Ah, who are those two mates with you in the picture in your room?"

Chase stopped. What right did House have to come barging into his domain and threaten to break through the wall that he had structured all his life. Who did House think that he would answer every question that came out of his fowl mouth….who did…Chase paused as an idea popped into his head. He almost smirked.

"I'll make you a deal." Chase got up and grabbed the boiling water, lifting the pot and pouring into the two mugs, "I'll answer your questions, only if you answer my questions first."

House shifted in his seat, he suddenly did not like the change in Chase. Why did he have to grow a backbone now, sure the kid always had one, but damn why did the Australian always have to pick his battles? He watched as Chase put the cocoa mix in the drinks, stirring it up.

"Why should I take the deal?"

Chase looked at him and grabbed one mug setting it on the table next to House. He grabbed his from the counter and walked over to his seat, "Because, it's the only way you can get to your answer."

House stared at him, raising a brow as Chase raise his cup in a toasting mood, "So, House, do we have an accord?"

Fine, two can play that game. House raised his own mug and tapped it against Chase's, "Agreed." Both took a sip out of their mug. House set the glass down, "Now then, I'll answer your first question: No, Wilson and I never slept together, I only spread those rumors just to spite him."

Chase smiled and shook his head. He had a question and he knew House was never going to answer it. He had a question that will have House leave him alone and never to bother him again. House groaned inwardly, he could see the mischievous look in the younger man's eyes.

"My first question: why do you hate your father?"

House felt as if someone punched him in the gut. He couldn't answer that question, it was personal, no one knows, not even Wilson knows the whole story.

"That's a stupid question; I'm not going to answer it."

Chase shrugged, "Than I'm not going to answer any of yours. Once you answer that question, I'll tell you who the person in the picture is."

"Well, I really don't care about the person in the picture. I demand to change my question."

House didn't like that Chase laughed, "You can change the question all you want, and I'm not answering them until you answer yours."

They both almost jumped as House's pager went off. He grabbed it and looked at it, "Those pathetic ducklings can't even handle the case without me."

"Thought you said you solved it?"

House waved his hands, "I lied." He used the cane to help prop himself up, he headed towards the door and glanced back at Chase, "Stupid game anyway."

Chase frowned as House left, for some reason he was expecting to feel satisfied that he beat House at his own game, that House will now let him be. Instead he felt disappointed.

"Where Chase?" were the first words out of Cameron's mouth as House came barging through the diagnosis conference room. She was sitting at the table with the patient's files spread out around her in an orderly fashion.

House grabbed the Vicodin from his pocket and popped three into his pop, dry-swallowing it. He ignored her question and headed towards the white board, "What happened with the patient?"

"You think we wouldn't find out?" Cameron pushed away from the table, "Half the hospital knows, you know how the nurses gossip!"

Foreman, who had been quiet before, spoke up, "We did have the right to know. We do work with the guy."

Cameron came into his face, "Is it true? He saved your life? He took a bullet for you? How could you not tell us?"

"Because Chase doesn't need you trying to fix him!" House snapped. Cameron's jaw snapped shut so loudly that House swore she could have broken some teeth. "He doesn't need fake pity from his co-workers; he doesn't need people poking him asking him if he was crazy or nuts for saving me! Now tell me, what happened to our patient!"

Cameron was silent. She slowly backed into her chair that House thought she would have started to cry right there but adverted her eyes and glanced at Foreman.

Foreman sighed, "He's not responding to the treatment, and earlier this morning his urine was red."

House grabbed the marker, "His kidneys are failing, that doesn't fit in with the regular symptoms. Why isn't he responding?"

"According to the nurse's reports, his levels and stats were getting better last night but he took a turn for worse this morning." Foreman flipped through the notes, rubbing his forehead. This case was annoying him, how come he couldn't figure it out. He glanced at Cameron who seemed to be still in a daze after House's outburst, not that she didn't deserve it. It wasn't his area to go around prodding in Chase's personal life, when he sees him; he'll congratulate him for saving him from looking for another job. _Guess he took the ass-kisser a little too far there_ Foreman thought. He heard House say something and he glanced as his boss, "What?"

"Did he have any visitors?"

"Uh," Foreman went through the notes.

"His wife came to visit him around six this morning before work. She was here for a half hour before she left." Cameron was coming out of her daze, getting back onto the case at hand.

"Before or after he got worse?" House was starting to get impatient and Foreman worked with the man long enough to know that he was close to the answer, that soon he was going to solve this. He hoped he could make sense of this and beat his boss to it.

Cameron tilted her head in confusion, "Before…look what does…"

"The tea!" House slammed his cane down in exclamation, "How could I miss it! It was right there all along!"

"What about the tea?" Foreman was still confused.

"She brewed a special tea for her husband, she said she made it for him all the time, it was his favorite." House paused staring at his ducklings hoping it'll hit them. Chase would have had the answer by now! Instead they just stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

"She's poisoning him! He only gets worse after her visits!"

"What?" Cameron shook her head and House knew she was battling against her human morals.  
"That's not possible…I saw her…she was devastated!"

"Probably because the bastard wasn't dead yet and that she wasn't getting her money quick enough." House waved her on-coming babblings away, "Foreman, go get the police, Cameron, up the man's dosage and make sure he had no more visitors. Hopefully the treatment will respond and he'll be better by the end of the week."

He watched as his two employees quickly got up and attended to their tasks. He sighed and walked into his office, the case had quickly left his mind and Chase's game slammed back into his thoughts.

_Why do you hate your father?_

How did he know that he had a bad relationship with his father? Did Wilson tell him? No, Wilson wouldn't do that, he only told Cameron stuff because her baby-tears always broke through him, he doubt Chase had tears that broke through Wilson's demeanor. He was supposed to be studying Chase, trying to solve his puzzle; he didn't want the wombat trying to solve the puzzle of why he is the way he is. Stacey never knew much of his personal life, he refused to tell her. He felt that it made him weak bearing out his soul to someone, he always needed to be strong; he did not want to be vulnerable with anyone. If anyone saw that Gregory House was vulnerable, they would use it against him.

He began to hate Chase very much for saving his life. Why didn't he just let me get shot, the bastard knew where he was aiming, he wanted House dead, he would have succeeded if it wasn't for the stupid wombat. Did Chase know that he might have died, was the wombat even thinking? Did Chase really care about him?

House shuddered at the mere thought. His employee, the one he has been pushing the hardest for years, the one who he insults the most, the one who pokes more in his personal life, the one who he always dampens his pride, all those things if one had a one way street mind, they would think that House hated Chase, hell, even Wilson thought for the longest time that House hated him, he wanted House to fire him after Vogler. House would never let people try and see the Chase that he saw. He portrayed Chase in a negative light to people. Foreman thought Chase was a lazy rich boy who had his whole life handed to him on a silver plate. Cameron thought Chase was cute and perfect, a toy that did not need any fixing. House did nothing but try to make those things true.

The truth was, Chase was a hard-working employee who worked hard and suffered to achieve the things he wanted in his life, he was a fighter, and he was most definitely broken.

How could Chase care about House? How could Chase respect him?

He paused as he remembered punching Chase. Chase did not even tattle on him. He just went upon his job and acted like it didn't happen. He remembered when he went to rehab, Cameron had pity him, Foreman just acted like it was another part of the game House was playing, Chase…had gave him a small sad smile, it wasn't pity…it was more like an understanding.

Damn….how could he not have seen this. Chase was an empathic. He grabbed his cane and limped out of his office. He needed to go talk to Wilson.

Wilson sighed as he read over his patient's notes before typing into his report on his computer. He grabbed the file and closed it, preparing to place it in his draw when suddenly the door opened and House come bargaining. Catching him off-guard Wilson jumped, tossing his file up in the air.

Annoyed, Wilson watch the falling papers landing around and he glared at his intruder.

"House, not now. I have a meeting in ten min-"

"Chase asked me why I hated my father." House declared, sitting into the chair across from him. The man looked as if he declared something dramatic. Wilson just rolled his eyes and rubbed his hands through his face,

"That honestly does not surprise me. Chase is like you…doesn't let anybody in. You can't even have a personal conversation with the man…just like we can't have a serious conversation with you." Wilson began to pick up his papers, "Why did he ask you that?"

"He wanted to turn this into a game. He'll answer one of my questions, if I answer one of his, I think it's a back and forth thing…but…" House twirled his cane, motioning around the room, "I don't want to tell him my personal life, I just want to find out his!"

Wilson patted the papers down evenly, "The kid's smart, what did you expect? Didn't you tell me that he picked his own battles to fight?" He leaned back, searching for his briefcase.

"That's beside the point, look…what do I do?"

Wilson turned to House and laughed, "You're asking me? You never listen to my advice; you always do the opposite of what I say!"

House dropped his cane to the ground and exhaled softly, "I just want to find out the truth."

"You mean you want to solve your puzzle." Wilson shook his head, "House, Chase is a human being, it's not going to be as simple as finding out the symptoms and putting it all together." Wilson stopped as he saw something in House's eyes, "This is more than a puzzle to you…isn't it?"

House's eyes hardened and his emotions were hidden, he didn't say anything.

Wilson sighed, "Look, House, you and Chase, you both have walls. You both don't let people in easy and you both don't tend to correct what people bother to say or gossip about you. You both think it's easier to let people make their own assumptions. Maybe this will be good for you if you told him your personal life House, you never told anyone…not even Stacey." Wilson grabbed his briefcase and placed the file into it. Snapping it shut, he continued, "Maybe some burdens will be lifted off both of you guys if you shared something. I don't think Chase is expecting your life story, I think he doesn't want you dragging him down some harsh memories and tortures without you feeling anything as well."

He stood up as he saw House deep in thought, he heard the Vicodin lid popping on and off in House's pocket. "Who knows, maybe you'll learn something about yourself…or maybe…." He headed towards the door, thinking of how to phrase the words in his mind, he paused in front of the door knob. He turned to House, "Maybe it'll help ease the pain."

House moved his head and locked eyes with Wilson and Wilson couldn't read any emotions from him. Maybe he just needed a reason not to play this game, Wilson thought bitterly.

"Then again…you never take heed in my advices anyway." He opened the door, ready for his meeting, "Lock the door on your way out."

House watched as Wilson departed down the hall. The man had a point…a good point. But it was a pathetic point. Why would House even do that? So much for coming to Wilson. He fixed his eyes on Wilson's chair, rerunning his words in his head. He grabbed his Vicodin and popped two into his mouth. Dry-swallowing he got up onto his feet, General Hospital started in a half hour and he needed a place to escape from Cuddy and his problems.

Chase yawned as he flipped the channel, not that he was paying any attention to the television. He should go to bed soon; he had to go back to work bright and early tomorrow. He groaned, he hadn't had a day off in probably two years and the past two days, even though he was injured, was quite relaxing, no running around solving puzzles, no saving peoples' lives. Just a day for himself. He decided that when he goes back, he should plan to take a week off in the next month or so, maybe go back home. He hadn't been home for three years. He didn't even go home for his father's funeral, maybe it was time for him to go back.

He felt an ache in his heart, wow, he must really be homesick. Funny, growing up hadn't been a picnic for him, he spent his entire life wanting to escape and now here he was, yearning to return back to the home he vowed never to return to. Maybe it was because he had nothing left for him there.

He was so lost in thought that he failed to hear the door open. He was startled as he heard a voice.

"He was a manipulative bastard." House was standing in the doorway.

Chase got onto his feet, "How did you---"

House stepped forward, interrupting him, "He was a manipulative bastard."

Chase froze as he realized what House was saying. He sank back into his couch watching as House shut the door and walked towards him.

"Nothing I ever did pleased him…he used to…he used to abuse me when I was growing up. Always tried to make me be like him, only better. And I hate that my father will now look upon me and he would not like the man I've become. He displeased of who I am…my _own _ father."

Chase was shocked, he really wanted to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming, wanted to remark that House was lying and to stop joking but..he could tell…House was serious. House was bearing his soul. House _never _bared his soul. He stared hard at House, taking in his words.

"I don't hate him though…but I don't love him either. He just exists…he means…" Chase slid over so that House could sit on the couch, he could see that the pain was getting worst in his leg, "he means nothing to me."

Chase's breath got caught in his throat and part of him wanted to reach out and comfort House. But he knew that if he did that, House would go running away. This is not what House wanted..this is not what he needs. Chase sat up straighter, "Jon and his younger brother Ethan."

House looked over at him, and Chase waited for House's blank expression to return but the angst was still in his face.

"The guys in the picture," he continued, "Jon was my best friend, I met him in the seminary a week after my mother died. Heh…well, he was helping me clean up…" Chase plastered on an innocent expression on his face, "I kinda set the pew on fire." He almost smiled as House let out a small chuckle. "It was during a baptism, and I dropped the fire on the nun's dress. They made my life miserable after that, I think that started my hate for them."

Chase rubbed his broken arm, "Jon helped me through a lot, and helped me try to pursue my dreams of going to college here in America. My father found me and dragged me away from the seminary, he forced me into medical school and told me I had to become a doctor and follow into his footsteps. Jon came after me and told me to disobey my father, to run off and go after my own dreams…" Chase closed his eyes as the memories slammed into him.

_If you don't run away now, your father will haunt you for the rest of your life._

_If I run away, my father will only come after me again and again; he will never leave me alone._

_You'll never know until you try. Run Robbie, only you can make something out of yourself…not your father._

"He's the reason why I become an insentivist." Chase opened his eyes and stared at House. Here they were face to face with their souls out in the open. House nodded, he sense there was more to this story, but he didn't want to press. If he did, Chase would only close up on him. Patience, wait for him to gather his thoughts.

"It was the first time that I took my own path…with my father I always felt so trapped…" Chase clenched his right hand into a fist, "I just wanted to make my life mean something…with him, it always felt…worthless…ya know?"

It was silent and House knew that Chase wasn't going to say anymore. Neither of them would. Story time was over for tonight. House gripped hard on his cane…he can't believe he told Chase that but for some reason, he felt a little lighter. He kind of liked this feeling. He was surprised that Chase answered his question without hesitation, like a response. There was no pity in his eyes, he could tell that they could walk into work tomorrow and Chase wouldn't be disgusted by him. He glanced at the television set and then looked over back at Chase,

"OC reruns are on now, wanna watch them?"

Chase almost laughed, "Why not?" He and House stared at each other, reading one another, figuring it out. "Want me to make some popcorn?"

"Sounds good…" House watched as Chase stood up, "Listen…"

"No worries mate," Chase placed a finger on his lips, "My lips are sealed."

House laughed as Chase gave him a mischievous grin. He watched as Chase walked into his kitchen, searching for his bag of popcorn. He reached for the remote on the coffee table and stopped as he realized something.

There was a crack in Chase's mask.


End file.
